


My chosen one

by abrandneweeveelution



Series: Chosen Ones [1]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Intense fluff, M/M, intense angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:21:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24309661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abrandneweeveelution/pseuds/abrandneweeveelution
Summary: *Changed- Baz finally comes out to Simon. Cue fluff, tears, drama, and self-discovery.*05/26-I finished this story in a single day. It got way off track from my original plans at the end, so I renamed it and I renamed the chapters to fit the story better.*05/27-There is a sequel now! It’s called “My “Rosebud” Boy(friend)”, and the first chapter has been posted.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Chosen Ones [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1762753
Comments: 3
Kudos: 41





	1. Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> I hope that quarantine is treating everyone well and that no one is going insane. Thank you for reading this, though!  
> *5/27-Thank you to everyone who read, left kudos, and/or commented. This has only been posted for a single day, yet it already has almost as many hits as the first story I ever posted.

I wake up, and there he is. He's still sleeping. It's kind of unusual for me to get up before him, so I sit here, still under my covers, pretending to sleep, and I watch. He's a fitful sleeper, always tossing and turning. Even during the deepest stage of his sleep, he still makes noise. Once, I woke up in the middle of the night because I heard a loud _bump,_ and it seemed that he had turned over too far, fallen off, and hit the floor. He slept through it.

I hear him start to stir, so I stand up, walk over to the dresser, grab my uniform, and head into the bathroom to get ready. When I finish, I come out and see him standing in the middle of the room. He looks like a ghost visited him, or maybe it was something else, because his complexion is pale (paler than usual, anyway), and he seems pretty alert. Much too alert for someone who just woke up, unless that someone is me.

Without even turning, he asks, "Hey, Baz, have you ever heard of someone named Lia Kiirnoel?" and it's so far out of the blue that for a second, I'm stunned by the randomness of the question. Usually, his inquiries are pretty spontaneous, but they're always related to _some_ thing, so I gain my composure enough to respond with a question of my own: "Well, why do you want to know? Is it for another dangerous quest that you know absolutely nothing about? Or is it something else entirely?"

He looks flustered for a second, so I hold my gaze, and, sure enough, he looks down at the wood-panelled floor like a wounded puppy and says, "Yes, it is for a dangerous quest about which I know next to nothing." Snow looks up at me, and, with his blue eyes that always seem like they're detecting every single one of my thoughts and plucking them from my brain one by one, stares at me, and says firmly, "No, I am not asking Penny. I don't want to get her involved because-" and that's as far as he can get before I interrupt him. I finish his sentence with my own words. "Because you're fine with getting me hurt, but not her. I see how it is," and he blushes because he knows I'm right. I always am, aren't I, especially since I'm his all-knowing, incredibly handsome, incredibly infuriating roommate.

”I wish you wouldn’t talk like that,” he sighs, exasperated.

”Do what?” I ask innocently, putting on my best “I’m curious, and that’s all, please tell me what it is” face.

”Like you don’t mean anything to me. You do. You mean a lot to me.” I’m confused. He actually considers me a friend? He keeps going. “You know,” he starts, “this summer, when I was in the care home, I realised that, instead of trailing behind you because I was suspicious, in fifth year, I was actually following you to try to get you to come back. You’re what helps me sleep at night and stay sane during the day, you know?” He starts blushing like mad, and, in that instant, that split second when his timid eyes are gazing right into my fierce, grey ones, I decide to confide in him. 

“Simon Snow, I like you.”

He blinks, dropping his stance, and says in wonder, “But _why_? I’ve been so horrible to you during our time here.” He seems utterly defeated, as though I told him that I had killed the Mage and not that I had a crush on him. He moves to sit back down on his bed. ”Fuck, ” he whispers, and I wonder if I've done something wrong. He notices my concerned expression, and assures me, ”Don’t worry; it's not you. I just need to get control of my emotions. I mean, I like you too, ” He says this, and my heart leaps. ”I've just never confronted the idea that I might be gay before. Even though I've never dated a girl...” His voice trails off here, and I think, ’ _Come on, Baz. If you play this right, well, you might get the chance to date Simon bloody Snow.’_ My voice comes out of my mouth on its own.

”Simon Snow, will you be my boyfriend?”


	2. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon’s POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I just posted a chapter earlier, but I’m just as devoted to this story as the people who gave it fifteen kudos within three hours of it being posted in the middle of the night, so why not?

He just told me that he likes me. He just asked me if I wanted to date him. Merlin, I’m already horrible with feelings that don’t have to do with romance, so how the fuck does he expect me to find words for this? And yet, in the back of my head, there’s a little voice that’s screaming at me to say yes, and as I think, my fingers interlaced and my fists in my lap, it gets louder and louder, until I can’t ignore it any longer. Fighting hard to keep control of my mouth until the right time, I pull my chin up, look him in the eye, and tell him, “Yes. Yes, Baz, I would actually really like that,” and once the words have gotten themselves out of my system, there’s quiet in my mind again. And in the room. We both blush, me turning redder than I ever thought was possible, him just turning a couple shades more pink, and he starts smiling like he owns the world.

”Finally!” He whispers to himself, flopping down on his bed.   
  
“What’s ’finally‘?” I ask him like the unobservant moron I am.

He sits up and stares at me. “How have you _not noticed_? I swear, I have given you _so_ many signs. How the bloody hell have you not picked up on them?”

I go into defensive mode, and protest, “I don’t even know what you’re talking about! How would I know if I’ve seen the signs if I don’t know what the signs are for?”

Now it’s _his_ turn to sigh in exasperation. “Snow, I’ve liked you since our second year.”

”You- you’ve- what?” I’m tripping over my words now, and I’m so flustered that I just stop talking all together. Better not to talk than to stutter. At least, that’s my opinion.

”I. Have. Liked. You. Since. Second. Year,” he says, clearly enunciating each word so that I don’t have an excuse to say that I didn’t hear him.   
  


I’m stunned by this. He’s had a crush on me for this long? And he didn’t tell me? Oh. That’s what he meant, when he got mad at me for not picking up the clues. He did tell me. I just wasn’t listening. Fuck it, I’ve been so blunt these past five years, it pains me to realise it. “I’m sorry for not getting the message sooner,” I say gently, going over to his bed and sitting down. Merlin, even though they’re the exact same mattress type, his _bed_ feels more expensive than mine. I put my hand in his lap. He gently covers it with his own, and I keep going. “I’ve actually thought that way about you too, in the past. When the Crucible was casting us together and you started walking my way, I thought, _My gods, he looks so good."_ Baz hitches up his eyebrow and smirks at me, and, laughing, I add, “Now, I don’t know what _you_ were thinking at that moment...” We both double over in laughter, and I realise just how far we’ve come from our first year, when we were constantly at each other’s throats. Now we’re (almost) not even bickering. I take his left hand, the one that’s draped over mine, and I squeeze it a bit. Not enough to hurt, but just enough to let him know that, yes, I am here, and yes, he is too, and yes, we’re dating, in case he doesn’t remember this new development. He squeezes back, and I giggle, because I’ve always liked the feeling of squeezing people. Even if they were just holding hands with me for grace at dinner, I’ve always squeezed. I do it because I like the feeling of knowing that I can control when someone leaves me. If I hold on tight enough, maybe they won’t go. Maybe they’ll stay with me forever. And knowing that someone cares about you enough to put up with you forever is a really nice thing to know.

I scoot closer to him on the bed, until our shoulders are touching, and I lay my head down sideways on his shoulder and close my eyes. He puts his arm around me, and, for the first time in (quite possibly) forever, I feel entirely secure. Like nobody’s going to see my faults, no one’s going to judge me for what I’ve done, and no one will ever be able to take me away from here.   
  
Sitting here with Baz feels like- well, it feels like I’m finally home.


	3. Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baz' POV, starting from where he left off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, at the rate I'm going, I might just finish this in a single day.

He's dead silent. The entire room is. He drops his chin, which pretty much completes the "I'm done with the world" look that he started putting together when he put his hands in his lap. Legs spread just a little bit. Hunched over. Hair falling over his face. I can tell he's thinking, however, by the way his shoulders are. They're the only part of his body that don't look like they're giving up, for whatever reason. They're still pulled back and pretty far down his spine. I wonder, _When will he decide?_ and as I'm thinking this, he starts to straighten. 

And then, with his amazingly golden, wavy, honey-brown hair still falling into his sapphire-blue eyes, he stares into my soul and tells me the words I've wanted to hear since I was twelve. "Yes," he says, smiling, the words flowing out of him like water out of a faucet. "Yes, Baz, I would actually really like that," he says, and my head almost literally explodes. _It's happening!_ one part of my brain is screaming, while another part is telling me, _Don't panic. Even though it's happening._ "Finally," I think out loud. I then flop backwards onto my bed, sitting up after I do so. My royal blue comforter, which I had pulled tight when I got up, is now wrinkled and messy from the impact. I'm smiling, inside and out, because this is something I've wanted since I was _twelve_. If you hold on to a dream for five years, you can be sure that you're going to be ecstatic when it finally comes true.

And, of course, Simon has to go and ruin our happy moment together by being as fucking oblivious as he always is. "What's 'finally'?" he asks, ruining my mood. How the _fuck_ has he not noticed? Even after all those nights that he spent following me in the Catacombs, even after he became so obsessed with me that he followed me to the restroom to make sure I wasn't up to something, he still. Hasn't. Noticed.

"How have you _not noticed_? I swear, I have given you _so_ many signs. How the bloody hell did you not pick up on them?"

His right shoulder goes up, and he flips his palm towards his face. "I don't even know what you're talking about!" he argues, his voice (and pitch) rising. "How am I supposed to know if I've seen the signs if I don't know what the signs are for?"

I sigh, pissed off by his lack of knowledge about me. I know every single fact about him. What shoe he ties first. His middle name. The way he looks when he's about to go off. How he stops stuttering when he's defending someone. And yet he hasn't picked up on this one simple fact about me. "Snow," I say, trying to get him to hear me for once. "I have liked you since our second year." 

He looks baffled, and his stutter comes back. "You-you've-what?" I decide to repeat myself, since it'll help him get the message through his brain.

"I. Have. Liked. You. Since. Second. Year," I tell him again, enunciating each syllable clearly. He stays still for a second, clearly dazed by what I just told him. He's thinking hard, I can tell. And his eyes are downcast, which means that he's probably telling himself mentally that he's been really, really dumb. 

"I'm sorry for not picking up on the message sooner," he apologizes, coming over to my bed to sit next to me. He rests his hand on my thigh. I put my own hand over it, covering it, keeping it there. Locking Snow into me, so that he stays. "I've thought that way about you, too, in the past," he admits, and I give him a teasing smile. He keeps going, closing his eyes in a way that makes it look like he's trying to sleep. "When the Crucible was casting us together and you started walking my way, I thought, _My gods, he looks so good._ " I raise my eyebrow at him, and he starts laughing. He adds, "Now, I don't know what _you_ were thinking at that moment..." and we both burst into hysterics. He smiles softly, as though he were smiling at a sleeping baby and trying not to wake it up with the brilliance of his _snow-_ white grin. Then he moves his right hand out from under my left. My heart is yearning for more, but then he takes my hand, and my world just- it just stops. Because nothing really matters to me, at least for that moment in time. Nothing except Snow. He pulls me close, not realising that at that same time I'm pulling on him as well, and he lays his head on my shoulder. I wrap my arm around his waist, and we stay there for the most perfect minute that God (if he's real) ever planned out. Then I lift my arm out from under his, and I lift his chin up, and I kiss him.

As our lips meet, it clicks. Why I've always been so attracted to him. Why he's so powerful. Why he's so timid.

He's the most beautiful Chosen One. But he's never been chosen by anyone. 

I break apart from him, hug him in close, and whisper in his ear, "Simon Snow, you're beautiful, and I love you, and I chose you, and I would choose you again. You mean the world to me, and I would give it up to have you."


	4. Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simon's POV, starting from where he left off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *5/26-Thank you to all the people who left kudos on this work. Especially since this is only the first day of this work being out and I've been posting literally all day.

He takes his arm out from under mine, and I shiver due to the sudden rush of cold air blowing on my back. And then, unexpectedly, he brings my head up with his fingertips, moves his face closer to mine, and kisses me. I've never experienced a sensation so good in my life; not even when Agatha and I kissed. Our kiss feels right. And in that split second when our faces touch, it clicks.

I've never been straight.

He's sucking it out of me, all the passion I have, it's all Baz's now. I can't imagine what it would be like to move; I can't imagine what it would be like to stop. He's guiding me down the strange path of homosexuality, and I don't want to drop the lantern. Then he moves to my neck, pulls me in close, and, ever so softly, whispers to me, "Simon Snow, you're beautiful, and I love you, and I chose you, and I would choose you again. You mean the world to me, and I would give it up to have you." He sits up a little bit, forcing me to look into his eyes that are so grey, they look like the underside of a rain cloud. "I mean it when I say that that will never change," he says firmly, as though the tone of his voice alone could make me believe him any more than I already do. "I am yours, Simon. My heart made that decision for me a long time ago." He is so good at this. Breaking my heart into a million pieces and then putting them all back together one by one, in the exact place where they go. Crushing me with his beautiful smile and his melancholic words, and then, when I'm least expecting it, making me whole again. I love him.

And then suddenly he pulls back, and I'm not ready for it, and I try to grab him, but he tears away, and he looks at me seriously, and he says, "No, I can't do this much longer," and he looks like a scared kitten, with large, frightened eyes and long, flexible limbs. I come closer, and I inquire, "Why not?" But he just shakes his head and then turns away, turns back from me. His black hair is curling down around his neck in thick locks, and I reach out and run my fingers through it. He turns his face back towards me, and when he does, I can see that he was crying, and I somehow know not to ask about it. And then I somehow know what it is.

"Baz, it's okay," I assure him. "I know what you are, and I'm _not scared_ of you."

He bares his teeth at me, exposing his fangs, and then closes his mouth. "Why are you not scared of me?" He's full-on sobbing now, and I tell him, "Baz, I'm not scared of you. I know you're a vampire, but I also know that you wouldn't bite me. In six years, there hasn't been a single time when you've hurt me physically, and I'm pretty infuriating, so that's saying something." I put my hand down on his back gently, and he arches his spine. "What I'm trying to say here is that, although we've been enemies for six years, we were still able to make up. And even if you do Turn me, that'll just mean that I'll be able to stick around longer." I grab his shirt sleeve, and he comes a little bit nearer. And then he turns to face me fully, and he buries his face against me, and he cries. His sobs are sounding like little hiccups now, and I wrap my arms around his waist and pull him in closer. And then I start crying too, for all the lost time before this that we spent in tirades and debates, for whatever it was that made him think that I wouldn't just let him come as he is. And after we finish, after we've gotten out all our self-pity and depression, is when he finally says to me, "Snow, let's start over. Let's go back to before all this, to before all the negative feelings and hatred towards each other, and let's start fresh." And I smile, and I stand up and walk over to the door, and I reply, "Yes, sir. Let me introduce myself. I'm Simon Snow, the Chosen One, and your boyfriend." We both start laughing, and it sounds like more of a cry than a laugh, and I walk over to him, and he stands up, and I bow. Taking his hand, I ask, "May I?"

And he nods, tear stains still glinting beneath his eyelids, and he kisses me, and he says, "You may."


End file.
